


Clean Up in Aisle 1

by icyvanity



Series: Pynch Week 2016 [5]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Awkward Flirting, Cell Phones, Getting Together, Grocery Store, M/M, Oblivious Adam, Past Child Abuse, Pining, Ronan needs to use his phone so he can be unsociable, Scars, Texting, i crack myself up, it's in aisle 1 bc 1 is the magician card in tarot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7715659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icyvanity/pseuds/icyvanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lynch family owns one of the largest grocery store chains in Virginia, but Adam has just about had it with running into the middle son.</p><p>Pynch Week Day 6: Grocery Store</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean Up in Aisle 1

The first time Mr. Ronan Lynch came to visit Henrietta’s only Lynch Foods, Adam Parrish was struck by how unfit he seemed for the job. The middle son of business moguls Aurora and (the late) Niall Lynch, he should have been partying on his yacht in the south of France with his school friends—not making inspections in small town stores in the middle of July.

“Mr. Lynch,” Adam said rather cordially, despite his surprise, the first time they met.

“Mr. Parrish, is it?” Ronan asked, not looking up from his phone. Adam was well aware that he was worse than the dirt on Ronan Lynch’s shoe, but Lynch Food’s PR people should have chosen a better representative of their company to come down. Ronan’s older brother Declan looked like he had a stick up his ass every time he made an announcement—which was shown to each store by video, of course—but he at least had the courtesy to _act_ like he wasn’t above the workers in his store.

Adam was the manager of Henrietta’s store, but Ronan hadn’t even looked at him in the ten minutes they’d been around the store. He’d taken a few notes on his phone, but otherwise it seemed he was having a very lengthy text conversation.

“Looks like the doors will have to be replaced before winter. The winters here have been pretty mild in the past few years, haven’t they?” Ronan asked, looking up at Adam for the first time. He somehow paled, but Adam knew it was likely at the sight of the scarring on Adam’s face from his last encounter with his father.

“Last year we had one bad storm, but besides that yes,” Adam replied, writing Ronan’s comment down onto his clipboard. Ronan hadn’t responded, and Adam looked up at him to find him still blatantly staring at Adam. Adam was used to this behavior, so he ignored it in favor of prompting, “Mr. Lynch?”

Ronan shook his head as if to clear it, and looked back down at his phone; Adam stifled his sigh as Ronan spoke again. “I can send someone to put in a new door. How does next week sound?”

Adam forced a smile. “That sounds good, Mr. Lynch. I’ll be here.”

They continued around the inside of the store, the storeroom, and the outside of the store to finish Ronan’s report. Adam walked Ronan to his car when they were done and shook hands with him.

“That’s a fine car you have there, Mr. Lynch,” Adam said, without any attempt to mask his accent; this man already thought so low of him that it wouldn’t do anything to change his view of Adam.

Ronan’s voice came out an octave higher than usual. “Do you like cars, Mr. Parrish?” He cleared his throat and looked up at Adam, hanging on his every word.

“Used to help my dad out with car repairs and worked over at Boyd’s for a few years before coming to work here,” Adam replied.

Ronan nodded, but didn’t say anything else. Adam took this is a dismissal and headed back toward the store. He didn’t notice Ronan watching him like he was a deity, nor did he hear the BMW as it finally pulled away with a screech of rubber.

* * *

**to dick:**

GANSEY THE HOTTEST MAN I HAVE EVER SEEN IS THE MANAGER OF THIS STORE WHAT DO I DO

**to dick:**

HIS ACCENT IS KILLING ME

**to ronan:**

Isn’t texting while working with someone considered rude, asshole?

**to dick:**

SARGENT GIVE YOUR BOYFRIEND THE PHONE OR I WILL DRIVE MYSELF TO THE GALAPAGOS AND FUCK YOU UP

**to ronan:**

drama queen

**to ronan:**

I thought you were visiting Matthew. How did you end up doing inspections? Did Declan put you up to this? I can have a talk with him.

**to dick:**

DO. NOT. CALL. DECLAN.

**to dick:**

maybe I can just hang around henrietta for a bit. new door has to be installed next week. i could go back.

**to ronan:**

someone sounds desperate

**to dick:**

SARGENT I SWEAR TO GOD

* * *

The next time Adam saw Ronan was the following Thursday, when the door was supposed to be installed. Adam expected perhaps one or two men from a local business, not for Ronan Lynch himself to be presiding over the installation. He froze in the middle of aisle 1 at the sight of Ronan, shaved head and tattoo and all.

Ronan caught sight of him before Adam found it in himself to move again. “Mr. Parrish, we meet again,” Ronan said, jogging to Adam’s side.

“Adam,” Adam said finally, fingers brushing his bright red nametag.

“Sorry?”

Adam cleared his throat, “Mr. Parrish is much too formal; you can call me Adam, Mr. Lynch.”

Ronan didn’t offer for Adam to call him by his first name—knowing that was not appropriate—and fell into step beside him as Adam continued down the aisle.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you again,” Adam said as he deposited the objects in his hands onto one of the high shelves.

Ronan shrugged. “I was still in town, so I thought I would oversee my men installing the new door. Who knows—there could be something else for to fix up as well.”

Adam missed the hopeful lilt of Ronan’s words, focusing instead on the message he saw in the words. “I believe we determined this store was up to your standards, _Mr. Lynch_ ,” Adam said icily.

Ronan’s face fell and he scrambled to explain. “That’s not what I meant—”

“I think I know exactly what you meant,” Adam said, cutting him off. “Please excuse me, Mr. Lynch. I have work to do to _fix up_ my store.” This time, Ronan watched as he stalked away.

* * *

**to dick:**

i fucked up.

**to ronan:**

shocking. tell me more.

**to dick:**

BLUE THIS IS NOT THE TIME

**to ronan:**

What happened Ronan?

**to dick:**

i offended the cute manager, and he’s never going to speak to me ever again. i might as well just leave now.

**to ronan:**

Ronan, you aren’t a quitter. Maybe you can redeem yourself somehow. You could invite him to dinner or buy him flowers.

**to dick:**

somehow, i don’t think that would go over very well

* * *

The third time Adam saw Ronan, it wasn’t even in the store. He’d been driving home—back to his tiny apartment above St. Agnes, that he’d resided in since his senior year of high school—in the rain one night when he saw a car pulled over to the shoulder of the road. It wasn’t until he’d pulled up next to it that he realized he recognized the car. Sighing, he grabbed his jacket and jumped out of the car, holding the jacket above him like a weak shield against the rain as he made a mad dash for the car. He knocked vigorously on Ronan’s window until Ronan rolled it down.

“Car trouble?” he asked, practically shouting over the heavy rain.

“It stalled but I can’t fix it in this weather,” Ronan replied angrily.

Adam glanced around; they were the only cars for miles, and it was unlikely Boyd would send out a tow until the storm let up. Thankfully, they were in a higher part of town, so it wasn’t possible for the car to flood unless the heavens _really_ opened up.

“I can give you a ride if you’re alright with leaving your car here until the storm passes,” Adam offered.

Ronan agreed and rolled the window back up. Adam retreated back to his car and waited for Ronan; he chuckled when Ronan slipped on the wet road on his way to the passenger’s side, but calmed himself before Ronan threw himself inside.

“Thank you,” Ronan said, teeth chattering as Adam pulled away.

“My pleasure. Sorry—the heat doesn’t work.”

“No worries,” Ronan assured him, wrapping his arms around his sodden self like a blanket. He gave Adam directions to the apartment Matthew was currently living in, but was silent besides as Adam drove him across town. “Thank you, Adam,” he said again as they pulled up in front, squeezing Adam’s shoulder in a very _Gansey_ gesture. “Maybe I could take you out to lunch as thanks—sometime next week—”

Adam pulled away as if he’d been burned. “I don’t need your charity. It was no problem at all, Mr. Lynch.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Goodnight, Mr. Lynch.”

* * *

**to dick:**

guess who fucked up again

**to ronan:**

was it u, asshole?

**to dick:**

please buy the midget her own phone so she can harass me from there

**to ronan:**

fuck u

* * *

The fourth time Adam saw Ronan, he was expecting it. It had been a week since he’d given Ronan a ride, and Adam was getting anxious that he wouldn’t see Ronan again. No—that wasn’t right. He didn’t _want_ to see Ronan. Like Adam needed another pretentious prick in his life, no matter how attractive he was.

Adam was still a bit surprised when he saw Ronan leaning against his car—parked right next to Adam’s—with a bouquet of flowers in one fist and his phone clutched in the other.

“Mr. Lynch,” Adam said, stopping a few feet away from him. It was almost comical, the way Ronan’s head snapped up to look at Ronan as he jumped.

“Adam,” Ronan said. He stuck his hand out, shoving the flowers into Adam’s chest. Adam blinked down at them, cocking an eyebrow as he glanced between them and Ronan.

“What are these for?” Adam asked. He took the flowers from Ronan’s hand, reveling in the quick brush of his against Ronan’s.

Ronan’s free hand now rubbed his head. “I—uh—I wanted to say sorry. I know I’ve offended you, and I don’t really know what I did but I think we got off on the wrong foot. I think you’re really attractive and kind, even though I _really_ don’t deserve that, and I fumble whenever I’m around you; though, I promise I’m this bad at talking to other people too.”

Adam gaped at him. “You kept coming back because you thought I was _attractive_?”

Ronan smiled sheepishly at him. “Yes?”

Adam snorted. “You really are bad at talking to other people.”

“I’m sorry. I should go—” Ronan said quickly, turning away.

Adam cut him off. “What about lunch? You offered to take me out in a week didn’t you?” Adam asked, watching as Ronan faced him again—this time with an expression of disbelief. “It’s been a week, Mr. Lynch.”

“You really want to go out with me?”

“I happen to think you’re attractive too.”

Adam decided then that Ronan’s smile was the best thing this world had to offer. Ronan reached out with his free hand and Adam took it.

“Please,” he said, rubbing his thumb along the back of Adam’s hand, “call me Ronan.”

**Author's Note:**

> [read on tumblr](http://lady-gryffindor.tumblr.com/post/149129804483/pynch-week-day-6)


End file.
